Firefight: Lost Platoon
by Shadow Commando
Summary: Two ODSTs find themselves stranded in a building in the middle of a park with Covenant on all sides, with little to no hope of escaping, but that doesn't mean they can't take a few Covies with em. Takes place on firefight level "Lost Platoon."
1. Rude Awakening

He could see a faint light ahead. Somewhat dim, but he could still make out it's glow and feel it's warmth, yet he could not reach out to grab it, for he had no form, only an awareness of his surroundings, or lack thereof, and of the light ahead that broke through the seemingly endless black void. But surely, if slowly, he felt himself being drawn toward it by some unseen force until he was completely taken by it's brightness.

That was when he felt himself coming back from the brink.

At first, he gradually became aware of his own form, feeling arms and legs, as well as something pressing against him from behind, though he did not know what it was, but he soon found himself mesmerized by what appeared to be bright yellow fluff. His vision must have been going bad.

Then he noticed a sound coming from somewhere. He couldn't quite make it out, but as he listened, it sounded like muffled ticking noises.

_Pititititititititit...Pitititit...Pititititititit...clip-op...clop-ip..._

Upon hearing that clicking noise, everything came back to him. The light and it's warmth were from the sun up in the sky, which was the fluffy yellow expansion, and the thing pressing against his back was the ground, and the ticking noises he'd heard...was the sound of a silenced M7 submachine gun. The clip-clopping was the sound of a fresh clip being shoved in.

He raised his head up so his chin touched the armor covering his chest and saw what looked like an over turned warthog. Behind it was a man in bulky black ODST armor firing the SMG he'd heard a second ago.

_Pititititititititit_

He quickly shifted his gaze behind him where the Shock Trooper had been firing and watched a vulture like alien collapse as it's energy shield shorted out with a faint hiss, but it wasn't the only body on the ground, for around it were several similar looking aliens. They all seemed to be coming from the concrete building off in the distance.

The alien he'd seen die was known as a 'Kig Yar' but most Soldiers called them 'Jackals' for their gruesome appearance, but only on the field since anti-war activists back home deemed the term racist, though no one on the front lines cared what they thought since none of those activists were away from home getting slaughtered by those same aliens they defended so vehemently.

"Jason?" asked the ODST behind the warthog.

The man now known as Jason turned his gaze back to the overturned warthog from which the ODST was taking cover and recognized the man's voice as belonging to his old buddy, Cpl Greggory Fisher, but he called him Greg since they knew each other on a first name basis.

With that piece of info processed in his mind, he started to remember who he himself was. He was Private First Class (PFC) Jason Walker, light brown hair, blue eyes, 6,2 in height, and a muscular build that came with ODST training. The fact that he was an ODST like Greg was proven by the fact that he was wearing the same bulky black armor as Greg, minus the helmet which must have fallen off when...

"Where'd the Banshees go?" asked Jason, sitting up.

They'd been doing a hit and run on Covenant convoys in the nearby valley, but were discovered by air patrols and were forced to retreat. They were fleeing in their warthog from the pursuing air vehicles named after a mythological omen of death, which proved fitting when they'd entered a field full of weeds that was surrounded on all sides by a large concrete wall and were turning the corner when one of the banshees scored a hit right next to the warthog with it's fuel rod cannon, sending the warthog rolling over on it's back. Greg was driving and apparently came out unscathed while Jason had been in the passenger seat and was knocked out and lost his helmet when he was dumped from the vehicle.

Greg looked like he was about to answer his question, but then stood up and unloaded his SMG at some distant foe.

Jason didn't need a hint to know he needed to find cover and crawled rapidly behind the overturned recon vehicle while Greg emptied the last of his clip at the still unseen threat.

"The Banshees flew away after they thought we were both dead...heck, until a minute ago, I thought I was the last man standing." said Greg, slamming another clip into his SMG.

"What's the situation?" asked Jason, unholstering his silenced M6C Pistol.

"Got Jackals and Grunts comin out of that concrete slab over there. I called in a Pelican, but it'll be fifteen minutes before it arrives." said Greg, popping off more rounds at the methane monkies as they raced toward them. The last one backflipped from being hit on the head. The two Jackals that had been accompanying the Grunts stopped, raised their shields, and fired green bolts in the Warthog's direction.

"Stay down!" warned Greg, crouching next to Jason as he reloaded.

Jason would have asked what the problem was but the plasma rounds flying overhead made the question redundant.

Greg stood back up and continued firing at the approaching covenant while Jason plucked a frag from his belt and threw it over the warthog. A loud bang came almost 3 seconds later, which meant the frag had covered some distance before landing and detonating. Whether it claimed any kills was up for debate.

Greg's SMG ran dry, so he pulled out his silenced pistol and fired it with one hand as he struggled to reload his SMG with the other, not saying a word, whereas Jason would have been cursing up a storm had his ammo run out on him.

_Piff...Piff...PiffPiff..._

That was a great feature Greg had. He could keep his cool in almost any situation, even when everyone around him was panicking. It could be annoying at times, but it indirectly helped Jason keep his own act together more often than not.

Jason checked the clip in his own pistol to make sure it was full, shoved it back in, then looked around the opposite corner from where Greg was shooting, and noticed three more Jackals joining the fray just as the last Grunt before them twirled and fell down dead.

Jason took careful aim, exhaled slowly, and pulled the trigger.

The weapon's top slid back, ejecting a shell casing out the top and a bullet out the barrel, with only a near inaudible _Piff_ to mark it's passing. The round zoomed at it's target and flew through the energy shield's opening, slicing into the Jackal's arm. The alien pulled it's arm back, out of reflex, bringing it's shield up and leaving the creature completely exposed. Jason raised his pistol up only slightly and pulled the trigger a second time, hitting the Jackal in the face and ending it's life on the spot.

"That's right! The Point Man is back!" whooped Greg.

While Greg knew how to keep morale up, Jason could take out an entire squad of Grunts and Jackals with a single pistol without having to reload. This sort of skill earned him the aforementioned nickname which he usually did a decent job of living up to...and that wasn't about to change. He repeated the process of shooting through the shield's opening and then caving in the alien's face once their shield was raised above them until the other two Jackals were down and no longer breathing.

Having counted the shots and subtracting them from the amount he knew was in the clip, he had about 5 shots left after popping off 7. He'd had to use three rounds on the last Jackal instead of two like the others.

He checked his reserves and found 4 more clips for his pistol, along with three clips for his M392 Designated Marksman Rifle...the same rifle that he'd dropped while they were fleeing the air patrol back near the beach, and it was too far to go back for it now, so he'd have to use something else for now. Presumably a plasma pistol since he'd only need one charged up shot to take down an enemy's shield, and then he'd let his M6C do the rest. All he had to do now was go grab one.

"Greg, where's my helmet?" asked Jason, not wanting to run out to no-man's-land without the most basic protection.

"It's way out there somewhere." said Greg, pointing in the direction of the Grunt and Jackal corpses.

"I was about to run out there for a plasma pistol anyway. Cover me while I do." replied Jason.

"Hold on, you can use my helmet." said Greg, taking off his visored helmet and handing it to his war buddy.

Jason slipped the helmet on and sighed in relief from the shade it gave him from the hot sun and noticed Greg's full name displayed in the helmet's HUD.

_So this is what it's like, being Greg._ thought Jason with a chuckle.

"Just don't forget the eggs and milk while you're out." joked Greg.

He got back up and looked at the corpse littered field one more time, took a deep breath, and charged toward the nearest Grunt, slid in the dirt, grabbed the plasma pistol it had dropped, got back up, and ran for all he was worth back to the warthog, certain that another alien was behind him, and rolled behind what was left of their getaway car and aimed both pistols over the top, ready to unload at whatever had been chasing him.

The only aliens he saw were the 25 dead ones he and Greg dropped earlier...and the only sound he heard was a slow, sarcastic clapping.

"Bravo, Master Chief." applauded Greg sarcastically.

"It might pay off one day, ya never know." shrugged Jason, still aiming both weapons in the direction of the concrete building across the weed field, which seemed to be the source of the Grunts and Jackals coming at them.

"And weren't you supposed to go get your helmet, too?" asked Greg.

"Uhhh...couldn't find it." said Jason hastily, not wanting to go back out there again.

"Guess who?" said Greg, placing his hands over the visor of Jason's helmet and lifting it off his head and placing it back on his own.

"Uhh...Queen of Amazonia?" joked Jason, referencing a science fictional female character.

"You play too many virtual games." said Greg, lining up his sights again.

"Dude, it's cool...everyone's nerdy for Queen Orithia. :)" replied Jason.

"Your eyes turn into hearts while you said that?" asked Greg jokingly.

Even when Greg made fun of someone, there was still that air of friendliness about him to let the other guy know that things were still cool between them.

Before Jason could answer, however, he saw what looked like Sonic the Hedgehog coming up over the grassy hill, except this particular hedgehog was carrying a fuel rod cannon on it's right arm, and it was by no means cute or cuddly, given it's intimidating size and unfriendly nature.

"Hunter!" hissed Jason, crouching behind the warthog. It must have seen him when he got the plasma pistol.

Greg looked where he was pointing and quickly got back down behind the warthog beside Jason. Both ODSTs plucked frags from their belts.

This was gonna be bad.


	2. Preparations

Both looked at the Hunter one more time to see it running up to them, but upon spotting them peeking over the destroyed vehicle, the armored behemoth stopped in its tracks and raised its Fuel Rod Cannon.

The two Shock Troopers wasted no time priming their Grenades simultaneously and tossing them at the monster's feet. They got back down and felt the ground shake when a loud _BOOM_ erupted from behind their cover. Jason peeked at it one more time to see the beast staggering to stay upright as chunks of its armor had fallen off. He used the momentary distraction to barrage the Hunter's exposed weak points with his Plasma Pistol, firing as fast as the trigger would allow, and hitting it in various places, most of which were now unprotected and made it growl in pain as dozens of Lekgolo worms fell to the ground dead, before finishing off with a charged up shot that unfortunately homed in on the alien's armored chest, not quite where Jason had intended.

The ODST sank back down behind cover while the Hunter charged up its own weapon in response, as if to say _was that your best shot?_

Both humans heard what sounded like an elephant being violated with a tuba and were almost crushed by the warthog that suddenly lurched forward from the sheer force of the beam of energy from the Hunter's Fuel Rod Cannon, until it was finally sawed in half by the beam, narrowly missing the two Marines on either side of it.

"You take right, I'll take left," said Greg."

Jason nodded, and the two Shock Troopers jumped out of cover and charged the Hunter, weapons firing. An act which the Covenant Mgalekgolo clearly did not expect, and was hit in several unprotected areas as it charged up its killing weapon. But by the time it was ready to fire, the black armored humans had gotten too close, so the alien charged forward and swung it's shield at the unhelmeted human's head.

Jason ducked in time to avoid losing his head, literally, and then rolled forward to gain some distance from the Hunter which he was now behind. Greg had jumped to the side when the Hunter swung at Jason and also found himself behind it. Both Marines wasted no time leveling their weapons and unloading at the exposed worm colony that made up the behemoth's form.

A short cacophony of silenced gun shots and plasma bursts later, the Mgalekgolo fell to the ground. The surviving worms that made up its mass scattered, leaving behind only bits of armor and a Fuel Rod Cannon too heavy for the humans to use, which was most likely what the weapon's creators had intended.

The two Marines took a few seconds to catch their breath and then ran over to the dead Grunts and Jackals from the earlier firefight and pocketed anything useful.

Greg placed two Plasma Grenades into his pack and snatched a grunt's Plasma Pistol, having seen it's potential from fighting the Hunter, while Jason dropped the Plasma Pistol he'd been carrying, picked up three Plasma Grenades and a Covenant Carbine a Jackal had dropped. Its 18 shot energy pack was full and there were two more packs in the Jackal's pouch, giving him a total of 54 shots. He then noticed a black helmet lying in the grass, next to a crater, and picked it up. Sure enough, it was his helmet, but the visor was smashed and it was cracked on the side, most likely from the first grenade he'd tossed, making the helmet useless, so he simply dropped it where he found it.

"Found another one," said Greg, holding up a second Carbine.

"How much ammo you got for it?" asked Jason.

"The clip in the weapon is half empty, I'd say 9 shots, but I got one more clip to go with it, so I'd say about...27 shots."

"Make that 45," replied Jason, tossing one of his Carbine Packs to Greg.

That left him with 36 shots, but added to Greg's 45, that gave them both a total of 81. More than enough to get the job done.

"What about you? Do ya got everything you need?" asked Greg.

"I still have 36 shots, and I also found my helmet, but it's busted. Other than that, I'm good to go. How bout you?"

"All set here, now let's get to a safe spot before anymore show up," replied Greg.

"Alright, but keep a look out for the other Hunter," said Jason.

"Eh?" asked Greg.

"Remember? There's always a second one," continued Jason.

Both ODSTs paused to listen and heard a faint clattering. As it got slightly louder, they turned to where it was coming from and saw another Mgalekgolo appear from behind a large hill, right next to them. It took them under 3 seconds to piece it all together: While they were dealing with the first Hunter at the foot of the big hill, the second one ran up the flight of stairs on the hill and dropped down behind it so it could flank them.

Upon seeing the black armored soldiers standing next to the remains of its bond brother, the second Hunter roared in anger and immediately charged up it's Fuel Rod Cannon.

"Split up!" shouted Jason, charging right while Greg ran to the left, neither looking back.

The Hunter was momentarily confused, unable to figure out who to target and the energy beam shot across the open field harmlessly.

Greg ran around to the staircase on the big hill and got halfway up to find a drinking fountain, undamaged, and was tempted to try it, but turned back to make sure Jason was okay.

Jason sprinted back to the remains of their warthog and got behind the bigger half just as another energy beam tore at it, nearly turning it over from the sheer force of the impact. Then he heard what sounded like laser shots.

_Jaojaojaojao..._

Greg fired off several rounds from his Carbine at the Hunter's exposed back, burning through numerous Lekgolo worms with each pull of the trigger.

The Hunter whirled around and fired its charged weapon at the ODST.

Greg saw the green glow at the end of the weapon and wasted no time scrambling up the second half of the staircase to the top of the hill, though he did look back in time to see the drinking fountain disintegrate from the Fuel Rod Cannon's energy beam and swore under his breath.

Jason didn't see what was going on, but he did hear a Fuel Rod shot being fired away from him and looked up to see a glowing crater where Greg had been only seconds before. It took him several seconds to register that Greg was gone. There was no way he coud have survived that, and he didn't see his partner anywhere.

Now he knew how the second Hunter felt, but it was irrelevant. This was a fight to the finish and the only thing that mattered was who survived- and it wasn't going to be this can of worms. He leveled his carbine, lined up the scope until he got a good view of the hunter's exposed back, made up entirely of orange worms, and pulled the trigger as rapidly as he could, roasting dozens within the first second and a half.

Greg, who had been watching the hunter from the safety of a bush, watched the monster whirl around, back at Jason to retaliate. Now was his chance.

He pulled out one of his salvaged plasma grenades and threw it at the Mgalekgolo's back. It didn't seem to notice. He then leveled his Carbine, a fresh clip already locked and loaded.

The Hunter was about to fire when it was engulfed by a bright blue flash, accompanied by a loud bang that had an electric crackle to it. But the initial explosion caused a chain reaction that ignited the Fuel Rod Cannon, which exploded with the force of at least 4 shoulder mounted Fuel Rod Guns.

Jason had fired at the Hunter until it turned around, and chose that moment to crouch back down behind the warthog wreckage, praying it would hold out against the next barrage, but instead of the elephant/tuba noise, all he got was a loud crash like thunder. When he looked back at the Hunter, there wasn't much left of it, except for a few charred bits of it's armor in the middle of a green glowing crater. He also noticed its Fuel Rod Cannon was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it exploded, which would certainly explain the bright green crater, but what caused the explosion?

Before he could ponder on that further, however, he saw something rise out of the bushes at the top of the hill, above where the second Hunter had been attacking him from. He aimed the scope at the silhouette and saw a familiar looking helmet.

Greg.

He ran behind the hill and ran up the slope beside the road that led to the top of the hill until he was behind his partner. Or at least he would have been, had the ODST not seen him coming.

"Took you long enough."

Jason crouched down beside Greg.

"Was it you that took out the hunter?" he asked.

"He narrowly missed me when he took out that fountain on the staircase, so I got up here, right over the hunter, who apparently thought I was dead, and used the distraction you'd created to stick him with a plasma while his back was turned, but it looks like the Fuel Rods on his big gun didn't take kindly to plasma discharge, so it had the resulting chain reaction, as you can see," explained Greg.

"I thought for sure you bit the dust, no pun intended," said Jason, looking around at the dusty landscape.

"Why? Miss me?" asked Greg, making kissing noises at Jason.

"Hell no, I just needed someone to grovel at my mad pistol skillz," retorted the ODST.

"Well I just saved your ass by taking out a Hunter, all by my lonesome, so we're even," chuckled Greg.

"Touche'"

Jason then got down on his stomach and crawled toward the destroyed staircase, looking through his Carbine scope at the building nearby. Most of the building was shaped like a Covenant Spirit Dropship with two smaller square buildings in front of, and beside it, both connected to the main building via open walkways on top. He'd also looked just in time to see something big disappear behind the main building, too big to be a Grunt or a Jackal, and too fast to be a Hunter. That meant it was either a Brute or an Elite.

"See anything?" asked Greg, watching their flank.

"I think I saw a Brute or Elite hide behind the main part of the building, over on the right," replied Jason.

"Probably a Brute. Elites lead their squads into battle. Brutes hang back and let the smaller guys clear the mine fields, so to speak," analyzed Greg.

"I sure hope so. Elites creep me out," said Jason.

"Same here," replied Greg, "Elites are cunning tacticians and skilled warriors who prefer sneaking up on their enemies, whereas Brutes just like to mop up surviviors and only attack from the front."

"Exactly. At least now we know why Elites and Brutes hate eachother," pondered Jason.

"Wouldn't it be ironic if the Elites broke away from the Covenant and joined us for no apparent reason?" said Greg, smirking behind his visor.

"Pfff, like that's ever gonna happen," chuckled Jason.

"I just hope our extraction _does_ happen," said Greg, looking back through his visor.

"Speaking of which, how much time do we got left?" asked Jason.

"Eleven and a half minutes," replied Greg, flatly.

"...see anything?" asked Jason, his response as unenthusiastic as Greg's.

"The tunnel entrance down beside us is all clear. You?"

"Haven't seen anything emerge from that building yet. Good thing we picked this spot," replied Jason.

"Oh by the way, do you got any water on you?" asked Greg.

"Nah, I'm all dry." said Jason.

"You don't know the half of it," muttered Greg under his breath, not having had anything to drink since that morning. This was gonna be a long wait.

(...)

After what seemed like 10 minutes, Jason was curious.

"How many minutes left?" he asked.

"About 9," said Greg.

Jason would have complained, but he didn't have the energy for it. Then they heard a faint humming sound.

"You hear that?" asked Greg.

"I was about to ask you the same," replied Jason.

The humming grew louder. Perhaps it was a Pelican, or a Vulture, and they would soon be out of here. All the humming needed was a unique _whoosh_ that came only with the turbo engines of a UNSC airship. As it got closer, however, the humming grew louder in volume, but it remained the same. No whooshing sound.

That meant it was time to haul ass.

"Bail!" said Jason, getting up from his prone position and running down the wrecked staircase, Greg close behind.

The two ODSTs charged across the field toward the building. They both knew concrete wouldn't do much against plasma turrets, but it was better than facing them out in the open.

The humming grew substantially louder as they ran, and they were right at the nearest outer building at the back end of the main building when they heard plasma bursts behind them. The Phantom wasn't nearby, it was already upon them. Right over the hill they'd been on only moments before.

Both Shock Troopers made it around the first corner just as the plasma glassed the sand where they'd been running. They seemed to have a habit of getting out of harm's way in the nick of time. Jason shuddered to think of what would have happened had they stayed on the hill.

Greg turned around and noticed they were leaning against a platform slightly higher than they were, and as luck would have it, there was another drinking fountain on top of it.

"Happy day!" said Greg, hoisting himself up over the platform, ripping off his helmet, and sipping greedily at the water that sprayed out of the nozzle.

Jason also climbed up and sipped some water from the smaller fountain next to the one Greg was using until he was full. He then stopped to avoid getting so full of water that he would puke just from running, and splashed some water all over his face and head, getting relief from the heat. Greg did the same and put his helmet back on. Then they turned to their left and ran up the staircase attached to what had turned out to be some kind of garage and got to the top, their Carbines raised, but they found nothing.

They turned back to see the dropship leaving, but in it's place was a squad of Grunts and Jackals, led by a blue armored, gorilla like Jiralhanae, aka, a Brute, all of them scampering down the hill toward the Humans.

"Let's get in the shade," said Greg, pointing to the main building, which had a sun roof over it.

"I agree," replied Jason, getting the hint.

They ran across the walkway, went underneath the sun roof, and saw not one, but two Brutes guarding the entrance to the building's plaza down below the staircase next to the two Shock Troopers. Behind the Brutes was a warthog that looked to be on it's last legs, and beside the warthog were two dead Marines. Over to the right of the warthog was an open doorway to some kind of room, the inside of which the ODSTs could not see, but it probably had more dead humans in it. Humans murdered by the Brutes and their mindless slaves who the ODSTs had already massacred back on the field. Fortunately for those same ODSTs, the Brutes guarding the outside of the building were looking away from them, thinking the humans would try to go around to flank them from behind, rather than charge straight at them.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" whispered Greg.

"Time for a game of snowball," chuckled Jason, pulling out a Plasma Grenade.

"You take right, I take left," whispered Greg.

He ran to the left aisle, stopping right over the Brute guarding the left corner of the plaza while Jason went to the right until he was standing over the other Brute guarding the opposite corner. They held out their Plasma Grenades, armed them, and simply dropped the bright blue balls on their equally blue targets. Greg's grenade landed on the left Brute's back and he looked around, wondering where the humming noise was coming from, while Jason, ever the sharpshooter, dropped his on the right Brute's helmet. The alien immediately realized the peril it was in and tried desparately to claw off its helmet, which was strapped to its head.

"No! NOO! GET IT OFF! GET IT-" **_BOOM!_**

Both Brutes exploded simultaneously.

Greg busted out laughing, both at the humorous display, and from relief that they'd single handedly killed two Brutes before the creatures could do the same to them.

Jason ran down the stairs and got on the warthog's mini-gun turret.

"You drive, I'll shoot!" he shouted to Greg as he ran down the stairs.

"I sure hope that thing can get us out of here, it looks like it's being held together with cement tape," said Greg as he climbed into the warthog and activated it's engine...or at least tried to. The engine made no sound.

"Dead," said Greg, his voice full of dread.

"So are we," replied Jason.

Greg hopped out of the warthog.

"Looks like we're stuck here until the Pelican arrives in about 7 and a half minutes," he said, running inside the room on the hog's right.

After several clicking noises, he ran back out with a fully loaded MA37 Assault Rifle, and several extra ammo clips in his pack.

Jason hopped off the turret and picked up one of the dead Marines' MA37s.

"Better take an extra while you're at it," said Jason, tossing the rifle to his friend.

Greg caught it with his free hand and continued running up the staircase and took cover behind a large supply crate to the left of the stairs, a rifle in each hand.

Jason may have had unmatched skill with his pistol, but Greg was notorious for being able to fire two Assault Rifles at once and still hit his targets with accuracy. He made sure both were loaded and working right and then noticed the marking on the crate he was hiding behind: _MREs_. Looked like fate had decided to throw them a bone, after all, or as Jason might have put it; _God was feeling generous._

Jason checked the turret he was operating and was satisfied with its condition. Either the Brutes had planned to use it themselves if need be, or they didn't think destroying it was worth the effort. Either way, it would cost their allies dearly.

He waited quietly until he could hear light chattering getting closer. Obviously Grunts. He just hoped they didn't have their grenades ready when they entered the plaza, or he'd be in big trouble.

The chattering was getting slightly louder and he could almost make out what they were saying, until finally, he saw two orange Grunts appear from the right, and three more coming from the left, two orange, one red.

The ODST said a quick prayer for himself and his partner, and waited a few seconds as the methane breathers seemed to be focused on the charred Brutes and the dead Marines lying beside the vehicle, but then one stopped in front of the hog and looked up to see the vehicle's turret not only manned by a human, but pointing right at him.

"WHOA!" he squeaked, jumping a full foot into the air.

Not hesistating any further, Jason pulled down the trigger.


	3. Round One

Greg watched the Unggoy jump into the air, in surprise, and get sliced in half by the Warthog's Chain Gun turret. Jason roared in anger as he swung the turret around, chopping up anything that moved until the entire plaza was bathed in luminous blue blood, severed limbs, and leaking methane tanks. Had that particular methane been flammable, Jason would already be burnt to a crisp.

The Jackals took cover behind the corners of the plaza. One of them decided to chance it and slowly side stepped into view of the warthog and charged his Plasma Pistol, but before he could fire it, the chain gun roared back to life, pelting his shield with a hail of lead. The Kig'Yar tried to fire the charged plasma bolt through the shield's opening, but its hands were clenched out of fear, and it was unable to release the trigger, though the big glowing ball of charged energy at the end of its pistol did get Jason's attention, and the ODST turned the gun slightly to the right, sending a stream of lead through the opening of the Jackal's shield, destroying both the pistol and its owner's arm. The Jackal screamed in pain and made the mistake of releasing its grip on its shield, which subsequently hissed off, leaving the Jackal to be torn to pieces by the persistent wall of lead.

"KILLTROCITY!" whooped Greg, watching the whole spectacle.

He then diverted his attention back to the stairwells across the walkways, both in front of him and to his left, and saw two Jiralhanae approaching from the rear walkway, and a pair of Jackals coming from his left, one of them holding a Carbine, which meant no shield. He opened up with both MA37s on the lead Jackal, knocking him off his feet, then got back behind the box so that he was safe from the Jackals, but could now see the Brutes coming at him. He plucked a Frag from his belt, which he got from the same room he took the Rifles from, primed it, and tossed it at the oncoming suits of blue armor. UNSC frags were designed to explode one second after impact for quick kills around corners, so he'd aimed it at the floor in a way that would make it explode as soon as it bounced up at the ape like aliens. The throw was timed perfectly and the grenade exploded in mid air, right in front of the Brutes, knocking them off their feet, much like the Jackal Greg shot, but they'd soon be back on their feet thanks to their armor. However, that was only besides the point since Greg still had some shielded Jackals to keep at bay, and went back around the corner so he could have at the Jackals which were nearly upon him. He dropped both rifles, pulled out his Kbar knife, and leapt at the nearest one, knocking it to the ground, and rolled it over on top of himself, then pulled out his Magnum and shot at the other Jackal's shield opening like he'd seen Jason do, and unloaded on the defenseless alien once it raised its shield up from being hit. It collapsed and he aimed at the last Jackal, which was already firing away at his hijacked energy shield, which had now turned pink from over heating. Greg repeated the same process of blasting away at whatever weakpoint he could find and the space vulture soon dropped dead.

The Jackal he'd taken hostage had outlived its usefulness, but before Greg could make that clear, the two Brutes had arrived on the scene. Greg had used his last Plasma Grenade on one of the Brutes guarding the plaza entrance and didn't have time to toss another frag at the King Kong wannabes, so he kicked the Jackal off himself and jumped down the stairs and rolled the rest of the way, his armor preventing any serious injury. He quickly got back up and grabbed Jason's leg to get his attention.

"BRUTES!" he shouted, pointing back up at the stair case.

Jason turned the turret around 180 degrees and aimed at the top of the stairs just as the Jiralhanae emerged and kept the trigger down. The 50 caliber lead storm cut through the Brutes' armor like cardboard as it was designed to withstand individual sniper rounds, not a continuous barrage of those same rounds, and the Brutes themselves were reduced to unrecognizable, bloody pulps. One simply fell backward while the other slid down the stairs, covering the steps in what looked like purple paint.

Greg ran up the stairs where the surivivng Jackal was waiting while Jason swung the turret back around to the front in time to see a Grunt charging around the corner with two ignited Plasma Grenades and wasted no time in wasting him. The midget alien fell back on its methane tank while the grenades it had been carrying fell to the ground and vaporized the Unggoy that had been carrying them only seconds before.

While this was taking place, Greg reached the top of the stairs he'd jumped down a few moments before and saw the Jackal charging its Plasma Pistol. Not waiting for an invitation, Greg rolled to the side, evading the plasma burst that flew past him, then got back up and ran over to the crate he'd taken cover behind and scooped up one of the two MA37s he'd dropped and unloaded the rest of its clip at the Jackal just as its Pistol had finished cooling off, but it kept its shield up and blocked every last bullet Greg shot at him.

The ODST immediately rolled back behind the crate in time to avoid getting pelted by Plasma Bolts and pulled his knife back out and ran around the other corner where that same Jackal was attempting to flank him and tackled the bird man a second time, but instead of taking him hostage, he drove the knife in and out of the alien's neck and chest repeatedly until it stopped struggling. He then unstrapped the Shield from the Jackal's arm and strapped it to his own. It was called an _Energy Shield_ by war buffs back on the home front, but it didn't block everything like most people thought. Jackal Shields were actually designed to stop anything that hit them at high speeds, such as bullets, while slower objects, like fists or rifle butts, simply phased through them, so the correct term for it was _Kinetic Shield._ If anymore Covenant showed up, he'd need it. Meanwhile, Jason had two more Jackals pinned down behind the plaza corners, though he couldn't seem to do much more than that.

"How're ya doing?" shouted Greg.

Despite having just fired almost a thousand rounds from a 50 caliber gattling gun, Jason could still hear things fairly well, thanks to the micro sound filters planted into his ears.

"Got a couple of Jackals pinned down behind those corners. How bout you?" replied the gunner.

"Took out 4 Jackals myself. Got a couple of Kinetic Shields, too. Catch!" shouted back Greg, tossing another Shield to Jason, who tried to catch it, but it bounced out of his fingers and fell to the ground below him. He did not have time to go after it, as he heard Plasma Bolts zooming by and turned around to focus the turret on the Jackal on the left who had turned gutsy enough to venture out into the open to take a shot at him, but as soon as he got back on the turret, the Jackal dived back behind the corner. Out of sight, but still there, nonetheless.

"Can you help me out? I'm about half empty," shouted Jason.

"Gimme a minute. I'll try the snowball trick again," replied Greg, reloading one of the MA37s as he ran over to the right balcony overlooking one of the two Jackals.

He saw it crouched down behind its shield with its Plasma Pistol aimed at the corner, as if expecting Jason to come charging out at any moment. Greg was tempted to drop a Frag on the Jackal, but decided to save ammo and simply pulled out his Magnum and popped the alien in the head. It slumped over dead, never knowing what hit it.

The Jackal behind the building's left corner saw this and unloaded at the ODST. Greg raised his Kinetic Shield up in time to avoid getting burned while he ducked behind cover, then got back up and fired his rifle at the Jackal until one of the bullets made it through the shield's opening, killing the alien.

"All clear!" he shouted.

Hearing this, Jason hopped off the turret and unstrapped a helmet from one of the dead Marines, careful to avoid looking at the dead man's face, and placed the helmet on his own head. Then he collected the Marines' ID tags and picked up the Kinetic Shield he failed to catch earlier.

Greg was running back to the stairs where he'd left the other rifle when he saw two more Grunts running toward him from the rear walkway, but before he could raise his rifle to shoot, one of the Grunts fell flat on his face, dead. The second one fell backward, and Greg saw why when Jason came up the stairs with his silenced Magnum raised.

"How'd I do?" asked Jason, smirking.

"Tit for tat, I guess," replied Greg, "Nice helmet, by the way."

The Marine helmet may not have had a full faced visor, but it would give him some protection.

"Half is better than none, right?" replied Jason.

He then noticed the second rifle laying beside the crate Greg had used for cover and holstered his Magnum and picked up the rifle. The ammo counter read _21_, which was more than half full, and then ran back down the stairs and collected 5 full clips off the dead Marines next to the disabled Warthog, along with 2 more Plasma Grenades from the chewed up corpses littering the plaza.

"How much time do we got left?" he asked.

"5 minutes," replied Greg.

Jason wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. On one hand, they had survived alot longer than they thought, but at the same time, they didn't know how much longer they'd be able to hold out. Both remained silent as they pondered this.

"Screw it," said Jason at last, "We're ODSTs. We do worse for fun."

The ODST ran back down the stairs to get back on the turret, but stopped halfway down when he heard Greg calling his name.

"Why don't you let me use the shredder, this time. It's your turn to take the high ground," said Greg, referencing the warthog turret's popular nickname.

"Alright then, I'll cover your flank," replied Jason, running back up the stairs to the large crate Greg had been behind.

Greg climbed up on the recon vehicle andlooked down the sights of the chain gun, ready to blow away anything that came at them...and waited...and waited...but nothing came. Not so much as a sound, other than the wind blowing through the grassy field, and the occasional buzzing of insects attracted to the corpses.

"See anything, yet?" he called out.

"Nothin. I walked around the top of the building a few times but haven't seen anything," replied Jason, appearing over at the top of the stairs, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I guess the fact that you haven't already been shot while walking around so casually up there must be proof that we're not being stalked by, I dunno, Snipers or Spec Ops?" said Greg, his irritation obvious.

"Hey, I checked. This helmet monocle does night vision _and_ thermal, so I'd have seen something if it was there," retorted Jason, pointing to the green monocle attached to the Marine Helmet he was wearing.

"Fair enough," conceded Greg.

That was a skill Jason topped him at: locating enemies. Several times the guy had saved his life simply by pointing out a Covie he had missed, so he had no doubt that if they were being stalked by something, Jason would have indeed seen it, so he breathed easy and hopped off the turret.

"Going somewhere?" asked Jason as Greg walked by him up the steps.

"That big Christmas Present you were leaning against has MREs in it. I'm getting some," said Greg, pulling out his knife.

"You mean this whole time there were were _Meals Rejected _by_ Everyone_ inside that thing and I didn't even know it?" asked Jason in disbelief.

"'Fraid so," said Greg, slicing straps off the crate and then undoing the lock on it until it popped open.

Jason couldn't see his buddy's face through the visor he was wearing, but from the way he stared at the inside of the box, he was quite sure his face looked something like: O.O

"Lemme guess, it's empty," said Jason, fearing the worst.

"Are you kidding?" asked Greg as he tore open one of the cardboard boxes that was inside the armored crate, pulled out a plastic packet and tossed it at Jason who had to juggle it in his left hand a few times before finally catching it.

He set his rifle down and tore open the MRE to find several pieces of bread, some slices of ham, condiment packets to spice it up, a bag of dried fruit, a pack of dragon fruit juice with a straw, and a brownie. Not the tastiest meal ever prepared, but out here it seemed like his own slice of paradise.

"Like manna from heaven," said Jason, grinning ear to ear.

He set to work making himself some sandwiches, a total of two since there were only four slices, and added mustard to the first one and mayonaisse to the second. He then said a short prayer over his soon-to-be meal and quickly made short work of it.

"What do you got?" he asked Greg, in between bites.

"Spaghetti and cider. Nuff said," replied Greg, forking noodles into his mouth and washing them down with cider from a juice pack, "What do you got?"

"Fruit, fruit juice, sandwiches, and a brownie," said Jason, holding his chocolate prize up for Greg to see.

Greg stared at it for a moment.

"Ya sure that's chocolate? I hear they call them _Meals Ready_ to _Excrete_ for a reason." said the ODST, forking more tomatoe-y noodles.

"Yup, I'm sure. What's the matter, didn't get any dessert?" asked Jason.

"I got a small pie in my pack, I'm just not into pies," replied Greg.

"What kind of pie?" asked Jason.

"Cherry," said Greg.

"Toss it over," said Jason, tossing the brownie to Greg, who, in return, tossed the packaged pie to Jason.

If there was one snack Jason loved more than any other, it was pie. He didn't care what flavor it was, just as long as it was fruity. Cherry pie on the other hand was one of his absolute gotta-haves. He wasn't about to let any brownies get in the way of that.

Both quickly finished their desserts and were debating on whether they should have seconds or take the crate back to base for the other soldiers when they heard a faint humming. They listened more intently and before long, they heard something that wiped away their worries: the whooshing sound!

The Pelican had finally arrived!

They looked to where the sound was coming from and saw the turtle-like drop ship hovering over the destroyed warthog Jason had woken up next to, across the grassy field.

"Time to go," said Greg, completely forgetting the rations he and Jason had been arguing over.

Jason grabbed two more MREs and followed across the rear walkway and turned to the staircase on the right and jumped over the railing, halfway done the steps and sprinted toward the Pelican, waving their arms.

This was it. After two straight days of ambushes on Covenant convoys, a near death experience on the way back, and a body count too high to measure, he and Greg would finally be going home. His first mission as a fabled Helljumper, and already he had something to talk about when he got back to his family. His little cousins would be the most impressed when he told them about how he and Greg took out two whole platoons of Covenant, almost like Spartans, and he'd even have a medal to prove it. The excitement was killing him.

"Deviled Eggs, this is Delta 337. What's your status? Over," radioed the Pilot.

"Green, now get us out of here," replied Greg, still running toward the Pelican.

"Brought you guys some _Materials Resmbling Edible_s," radioed Jason, holding up the MREs he'd swiped.

He could almost picture the Pilot's eyes rolling.

"Just hurry up so we can get out of...TAKE COVER NOW!" shouted the Pilot.


	4. Reinforcements

Both ODSTs looked around for whatever had spooked the pilot, but it was Greg who saw it first when he looked behind them to see another Phantom hovering over the opposite end of the field, near the building they had fled, mere moments before. Not only that, but it was carrying something underneath it. Greg immediately recognized it as a Wraith, a plasma mortar tank commonly used by Covenant Ground Forces, and one of the most feared weapons on the battlefield, second only to a Scarab.

"PHANTOM! BEHIND YOU! IT'S CARRYING A WRAITH!" shouted Greg, changing course toward the big hill he'd assassinated a Hunter from, earlier.

Jason saw the Phantom and followed Greg, still carrying the MREs, now that he'd most likely need them.

The Pelican lifted back up into the air and turned toward the Phantom to get a lock on it, but by that time, plasma was already inbound toward the turtle shaped dropship. It all happened so quickly that the pilot didn't have time to react and the dropship took a beating from the super heated energy beams that exploded like grenades upon impact with the Pelican's side. One of the engines was hit and the dropship lurched. The pilot fought to regain control of it while it spun wildly. The Marine manning the chain gun in the rear troop bay, Corporal Tyler Nixon, watched the Covenant Phantom slide into view as the dropship continued spinning and fired the turret as accurately as he could at the floating menace responsible for his aircraft's current predicament.

(-)

On the Phantom, a Grunt Spec Op named _Forstair_ held one arm above his eyes to shield them from the sunlight that poured in as the bay doors opened before him, doubling as a platform from which his team would descend to the human homeworld's surface to begin cleansing it, but just as it opened up, Forstair glanced up to see a human dropship across the field. He remembered it being refered to as a _Pelican_, except this one was smoking and spinning slowly. Being an experienced veteran like all other Spec Ops, Forstair knew right away that one of its engines had been hit, judging from the smoke, and it would most likely crash, which was why it was spinning. The fact that it was spinning slowly meant that the Pelican's Pilot was trying to regain control of it, and doing a pretty good job, too. What he did not expect, however, was for the gunner at the rear to make one last sweeping attack at his team as he spun by.

No sooner had the troop bay doors opened when a wall of lead smashed through several of Forstair's teammates, ripping holes in their suits that leaked blood and liquid methane. For a moment, Forstair was too shocked to say or do anything. He'd seen plenty of action during the past three years, had watched plenty of good men on both sides die, but this was an entirely new experience, seeing his teammates, some of which he'd known for a while, get shredded like meat in a grinder, right next to him. Most of them collapsed where they'd stood only moments before, while a few near the outside rolled out the bay doors and hit the dirt below, unmoving. Forstair felt himself for any wounds, doubting that he'd made it out unscathed, but to his astonishment, he found nothing. Several of his remaining teammates also checked themselves for wounds, but found none, except for his partner, Giggin, who was clutching his wrist where a bullet had severed his hand.

"Kenny, you bandage Giggin's arm," ordered Forstair as he got on the Plasma Turret, whose Gunner had since fallen out of the dropship, and aimed it at the Pelican, as its cockpit spun into view.

He squeezed the trigger and was nearly blinded by the bright flashes coming out of the barrel as the explosive plasma rounds flew toward the target.

(-)

Back on the Pelican, the Pilot, Lt Foster Nowak, had just gotten the bird steadied when the Phantom came back into view and he saw its side turret light up and ducked down just in time to avoid being hit in the face by shattered glass as the beams hit his windshield. He quickly tilted the joystick to the right, making the Pelican move in the same direction, and then moved the drop ship upward to get out of the gunner's range. It was then that he noticed a warm sensation on his left shoulder and looked to see it covered in melted glass. His windshield had been designed to withstand high temperatures, but a direct hit from a plasma beam had blown it to pieces, and even melted parts of it, some of which had dripped onto his shoulder, and he would have been in more pain than he could ever imagine, had it not been for his armor vest. He wiped the substance off his shoulder and moved the Pelican toward the hill where the ODSTs were taking cover.

"I'm gonna set this thing down behind the hill. Wait for me there," he radioed.

"Copy that," acknowledged Greg.

(-)

"Pile out!" barked the Brute Chieftain.

The Unggoy onboard were the first to go. Forstair landed on his two feet and then fell on his arms to absorb the shock since the Pilot had insisted on dropping them off at such an unreasonable height (at least for an Unggoy). He and the rest of the Unggoy under his command then spread out to make way for the Jiralhanae behind them who had no trouble landing, followed by the Pack Chieftain himself, who bent down upon landing, and then stood upright, clutching his Gravity Hammer triumphantly. To anyone else, it would have appeared he was showing off, but an experienced Covenant soldier knew that by holding his hammer in such a manner, the Chieftain was actually showing his dominance to keep his pack in line, much like a father showing his belt to keep his children from misbehaving.

The Chieftain pointed to the main building in front of them.

"I want this structure secure. Make sure there are no infidels left inside!" he barked,

Forstair activated his suit's camouflage, turning himself partially invisible. Humans couldn't see him, but Unggoy, Kig Yar, and Sangheili all had much more sensitive eyes and could easily make out the shimmers in the air made by cloaked figures, so he had no trouble seeing his comrades after they had activated their cloak suits. The Jiralhanae, on the other hand, had eyes that were on par with those of humans, and couldn't see themselves anymore than a human could, which made it tempting for lesser Unggoy to do things they normally couldn't do when the Jiralhanae were watching them, like making obscene gestures at the big apes. Forstair had to stifle a laugh as he watched his fellow Unngoy flicking the birdy, shaking their tushies, and making nah-nah signs with their hands at the Brutes who had no idea anything out of the ordinary was happening since they seemed to think active camouflage was equally hard for everyone to see.

Small cracks of plasma discharge caught Forstair's attention and he looked up to see the Phantom using its Plasma Turrets. The balls of plasma soared toward the human Pelican.

(-)

Onboard the Pelican, Cpl Nixon watched the Phantom's cannons light up and knew right away that his team was in trouble.

"Incoming plasma!" he shouted at the pilot.

Upon hearing this, Foster turned the Pelican to the left to shield his crew from the lethal beams, but this cost him both left engines which were completely destroyed by the horizontal rain of fire. The Pelican spun wildly as it descended rapidly. Nixon lost his balance and hung onto the chain gun to avoid falling out, but his grip wasn't strong enough and he was ripped from the Pelican before any of the other Marines could grab him, and landed in the weeds below, rolling several feet before blacking out. Foster fought to regain control of it, but knew it was a losing battle this time. The Pelican went down behind the big hill and everything went dark as a crash like thunder rang through Foster's ears.


	5. Bunker Hill

Seeing the Pelican swerve, Greg had decided to run up the stairs, both to avoid being crushed if it went down, and to make it easier for the bird to pick them up if it stayed the course. As it turned out, neither proved necessary, but them being up on the hill became advantageous since the Pelican went down right below them as they were now on top of the hill that it went down behind. The two ODSTs slid down the hill and landed on top of the downed aircraft.

"Stay here while I check the crew," said Jason, being the one with medical experience.

"Got it," affirmed Greg, aiming his MA37 at the top of the hill in case any covies came over it.

"Is everyone ok?" asked Jason.

"We're all good to go. Not sure about the pilot, though," came the reply.

Jason hopped down in front of the rear troop bay and went inside toward the cockpit to find the pilot unconscious. He ran a medi-scanner over him and found one of his knees bent out of place. The pilot had lost consciousness more likely out of shock than physical trauma, so there wasn't too much to worry about.

"Help me move him," said Jason to one of the other Marines.

Up on the top of the Pelican, Greg switched on his helmet's thermal image setting and watched for any movement, having had enough experience in the field to know that Covenant sent in their special ops when their infantry couldn't hold the line. Then he realized that if they had sent spec ops, the thermal imaging wouldn't do jack because by the time he saw them, they'd either be standing at the end of the hill, or on top of it, shooting at targets that had been backed into a corner. With this in mind, Greg informed his buddies that he was gonna go to the top of the hill and began climbing. He peered over the edge and detected nothing, so he crawled as fast as he could along the top of the big hill until he could see vague specters moving around the plaza building, confirming his spec op theory. He would have radioed for backup, but he didn't want them picking up his signal and listening in on his convo, so he ran back to the Pelican and yelled "We got spec ops! Get your asses up here now!"

Upon hearing that Spec Ops were inbound, five of the remaining Marines got out of the Pelican and climbed up the hill and ran over to where Greg was. Greg looked back at the Marines heading his way and his visor identified Sgt Nick Logan, a well built man of South American descent, as the highest ranking soldier in the group, the rest consisted of two corporals -an African named Martin Sherwood and a gray haired Caucasian named Joe Eastwood- both of whom were well built like Logan, a Latino private named Oscar Maximilian, and a Caucasian private first class named Jake Miller.

"We got Spec Ops spread out like sour cream on a bagel. I'll need you and your men to spread out across the hill while I keep them distracted," said Greg.

"How you gonna do that? I don't recall ODST armor being able to take plasma hits," replied Sgt Logan.

"Simple, I got this," said Greg, showing them the shield device on his arm, "I'll need Eastwood and Maximilian near the stairs in case the Covies get too close. Sherwood, Miller, and Logan, you guys spread out across the hill top. Sherwood and Miller will take out the Grunts while Logan aims for the Brutes."

Sherwood and Miller were armed with BR55HB Light Machine Guns with double drum magazines in the back while Logan had an SRS99C-S2 Sniper Rifle, allowing them to take out distant targets, while Eastwood and Maximilian had MA37 Assault Rifles, so they could take care of the closer targets. The Marines and ODST got down and crawled to where they'd been directed until they could barely make out shimmers in the air moving across the field.

"These monocle visors are crap. We still can't quite see them," whispered Miller, not 20 feet away from Greg.

"Hold on," said Greg, pinning all the Spec Ops with red outlines and transferring the data to the Marines' visors.

That was another thing that made ODSTs as valuable as SPARTANs, they could detect enemies that would be invisible to anyone else and point them out to the rest of the soldiers.

"I'm gonna get up and distract them while the Riflemen pick off the Spec Ops, one by one. Eastwood and Maximilian will take care of any that get too close," said Greg, activating his kinetic shield.

He then strafed left and right across the hilltop, firing his MA37 at the advancing Spec Ops as soon as they got within range while Logan, Sherwood, and Miller opened up on the now partially visible Covenant with their own rifles.

(...)

Forstair saw a human in black armor running around on the hill ahead of them, holding a shield and firing a rifle wildly. The next thing he knew, Kenny's head exploded.

"OH MY GOD, THEY KILLED KENNY!" screamed Giggin.

The black armored soldier continued running and firing, and the other Unggoy started falling like dominoes, Giggin with them. Their camouflage deactivated once their lifesigns flatlined.

"MORE HUMANS! THEY'RE IN THE BUSHES!" barked one of the Brutes, pointing at the top of the hill where muzzle flashes erupted.

One particularly loud bang took off the head of the Brute that ratted out the other humans' positions. They even had an anti-armor rifle! It was obvious the humans could see them, despite their cloaking. It seemed that everytime one of those humans with black armor showed up, ALL of the humans could see them. Perhaps the black humans controlled the others. Maybe that was why they alone turned the tide of most battles, from what he'd seen.

Another loud bang, and another Brute was knocked off his feet and fell to the ground, dead and decloaked.

Forstair aimed his Needler at the human and let loose a hail of explosive shards that sailed toward the target, but in the hail of flying lead raining down on the aliens, one bullet cut the veteran Unggoy's luck short. He felt like he'd been hit with a sledge hammer and was whirled around in a circle before falling on his side. After getting some air back into his winded lungs, he mustered the courage to look down at himself and saw where a Battle Rifle round had taken a chunk out of his side, narrowly avoiding going into him, but still taking a bit of him with it.

(...)

Greg saw the pink needle shards heading in his direction and raised his kinetic shield to block the ones that would have hit him, then plucked a frag from his belt and tossed it into the group of surviving Spec Ops.

A fiery explosion sent bodies, living and dead, flying in all directions.

Logan shot one Brute after another with his Sniper Rifle, firing anti-armor rounds in rapid succession, and reloading in the amount of time it took to blink. He was a machine gunner and a sniper all in one.

But despite the endless barrage of bullets, several Brutes made it to the stairs where Eastwood and Maximilian waited. Brutes were hard to take care of, but Eastwood came prepared with an M45 Pump action shotgun strapped over his back. He shouldered the bulky weapon, chambered a round, and waited for the Brutes to reach the top of the stairs.

"Let me handle this one," shouted the aging Marine to his latin counterpart.

Maximilian gave him the thumbs up and Joe didn't have to wait long for the large red outline of the hulking monster to appear right in front of him, but despite its active camouflage, Eastwood had the element of surprise since he was laying low in the bushes, which meant that the ape like alien didn't know he was there until a loud bang turned out his lights, permanently. The dead Brute's camo failed and he seemed to spawn out of thin air as he collapsed on top of one of his comrades and they both fell down the stairs, tripping a third Jiralhanae, and sending all three tumbling down the stairs a short way before the two living ones recovered, and by then, they were both pissed.

Eastwood and Maximilian took the opportunity to shoulder their MA37s and unload on the two remaining Brutes that were halfway down the stairs and kept firing until the Baby Kongs collapsed lifelessly on top of the first one and the two Marines' rifles clicked on empty. Just enough to finish the job.

(...)

The first thing Lt Nowak noticed upon regaining consciousness was a slight pain in his right knee.

"Agh! What's wrong with my leg?" he asked, looking up at one of his crew members and an ODST who was wearing a Marine helmet.

"We scanned your knee with the MRI glove. It was bent forward, so we had to snap it back into place. Be glad we did it while you were still unconscious, or you'd have been in a world of hurt," replied the Marine who'd stayed behind to help Jason. His name was Wayne and he was Caucasian like Miller and Eastwood, but he was also in his mid 20s, putting him in between the other two, age wise.

The gunshots outside suddenly died down and they wondered if the Covenant had taken the hill.

"All clear! How's Foster?" shouted Logan.

"I'm fine! What are you guys doing?" shouted back Foster, now that he was awake.

"The Covenant were cloaked, but we took em by surprise and wiped em out!" gloated Logan.

This surprised Foster and Wayne since a group of humans ambushing Covenant Spec Ops with bullet rifles and coming out on top was like a lit match drying up a puddle (or a lake, given the Covenant's firepower), but to Jason, it was old news. With the right kind of tactics and determination, Marines always emerged victorious.

(...)

Cheiftain Kahnmus was aghast at how quickly his Pack had been ripped to shreds by this tiny group of humans. Not 20 units into this and already half his Brutes and all his Unggoy were dead or wounded, thanks mostly to that human with an anti-armor rifle that ripped right through his own Brutes like toilet paper.

Kahnmus knew that he had to flee or attack, but neither seemed to offer the results he was looking for. He was about ten feet behind the group that was cut down before his very eyes, so they hadn't detected him yet, but they almost certainly would if he charged them head on. Falling back and regrouping was tactically wise, but not if you were a Brute. In Jiralhanae culture, lesser promotions could be achieved through merit and achievements, like with any other species, but in order to become the top dog in Jiralhanae society, you'd have to be willing to fight to the death for it. A Brute is not awarded the rank of Cheiftain, he rips it from the previous Cheiftain's cold, dead fingers and fights tooth and nail to protect that title until a stronger Brute comes along and kills him for it. And while Kahnmus would have loved to rely on armored support, he should have made that decision before attacking. He'd thought it would be a quick and easy execution of the Pelican's crew, but they'd hit the ground running and did the impossible, and now it was too late to turn back, as doing so would be admitting he made a tactical mistake, and would be seen as weakness, even if he did come out on top in the end, and Kahnmus did not kill his own Cheiftain three cycles before, just so he could be proven a weakling by these snacks, so he jogged around the hill, careful to not make any sounds, until the downed Pelican was in sight. In the Troop Bay he could see another black armored soldier and a regular Marine both giving medical treatment to a third human who seemed to be regaining consciousness. This would be the perfect place to ambush the other humans; he could sneak up on the humans in the downed dropship, quietly kill them, then lure the rest of the humans to their deaths. It was too good to pass up, so he slowly began tip toeing toward the dropship.

(...)

Not ten feet away from where the ODSTs' warthog had been totalled, Cpl Nixon slowly regained consciousness similarly to Jason, minus the temporary memory problem. He awoke in a field of weeds where he'd landed when he fell out of the Pelican, and, upon standing up, discovered he was surrounded by dozens of Jackal and Grunt corpses, most likely from the Helljumpers' initial encounter with the aliens. He then noticed dead Grunts and Brutes at the base of the hill not too far off, all of them Spec Ops. That, and the dead silence that covered the field, contrasting the chaos that filled his ears the last time he was awake, indicated he'd been out for some time. He unstrapped his M392 Designated Marksman Rifle and checked it for any signs of damage and was surprised to find none. After all that rolling and tumbling, it was only through divine intervention that the weapon hadn't been bent or scratched.

He then looked up and noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from behind the hill, most likely where the Pelican had gone down, so he jogged down the field until the bird came into view, and he could see some surviving Marines and one of the ODSTs inside it, but then they became distorted by a slight shimmer. Nixon wasn't sure what was going on, so he shouldered his DMR and peered through the scope, and upon getting a closer look at the shimmer, he recognized the effects as that of a cloaking device.

Without thinking, he turned the safety off and squeezed the trigger.

(...)

Kahnmus rounded the hill the Pelican was nestled behind and saw his targets: one black armored human without his helmet, and two Marines, one of which was wounded and being attended to by the black soldier, so he took his time tip toeing toward the bird, not making a sound. A little further and he just might be able to take them out silently if he was quick. Then he could attack those meat bags on the hill from behind and make them pay for his humiliation. His plan for a stealthy approach came to an end, however, when the Cheiftain felt a lead fist hit him in the back while a crash like thunder pounded his ears.

Someone had seen him.

Kahnmus looked behind himself to see a single Marine holding a scoped rifle. Only one had seen him. He could still accomplish his assassination and then take care of that pest. He turned back to the Pelican and began charging as his armor took a beating from Nixon's DMR, which the Marine was firing as fast as he could.

(...)

The Marines in the Pelican heard gunshots and looked up to see a Brute Cheiftain materializing out of thin air as its cloaking failed from the 7.62 mm rounds pounding it from behind.

They all swore simultaneously.

Jason unstrapped his Carbine and leveled it at the Cheiftain and squeezed the trigger as rapidly as he could, sending a hail of miniature fuel rod rounds at the demonic looking alien less than 40 feet away, while Wayne got on the rear turret and squeezed down the trigger, letting loose a satisfying stream of high caliber hell, yet the Brute kept coming.

Foster reached under one of the troop bay seats and pulled out a green, rectangular rifle known as the W/AVM6G/GNR, aka the Spartan Laser, aimed it at the oncoming Jiralhanae and squeezed the trigger.

(…)

Kahnmus had been hit so many times, both in front and in back, that he had no idea how many rounds had bounced off his armor, and which ones made it through, but he was almost there. Just a little bit further and those weapons wouldn't do much to save their owners, and he'd be able to redeem his failure.

But then Kahnmus saw something that threatened his plan: a small red dot within the Pelican that was getting progressively brighter. He knew right away what it was and what it could do to him, so he threw down his Gravity Hammer (and caution to the wind) and charge for all he was worth, intending to tear apart the Marines with his claws.

(…)

"FIRE, DAMN YOU!" shouted Foster, still aiming the Laser at the Brute now 10 feet away and closing.

Then, just when the Cheiftain was ready to pounce, the weapon emitted a low humming noise and the Jiralhanae's upper mid section exploded from the heat of the beam.

Greg and the other Marines made it to the back end of the hill, just in time to see a gorey pulp with legs collapse right in front of the downed Pelican.

"I guess we missed one," called out Greg.

"Oh, ya think?" came a sarcastic reply from inside the Pelican.


End file.
